


The Good Stuff

by agirlnamedtruth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Language Kink, M/M, Mild S&M, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 08:17:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlnamedtruth/pseuds/agirlnamedtruth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel discover something while Dean stitches up the wound Rachel gave Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Good Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: descriptions of sewing up a wound.
> 
> Written for the prompt Lacerations/Knife Wounds at [Hurt/Comfort Bingo](http://hc-bingo.livejournal.com)

“Deep breath.” Dean said, unscrewing the bottle cap.

Castiel drew in a sharp breath as the alcohol hit his skin. It wasn’t ideal but it was the only safe antiseptic at hand. Usually Castiel would just heal a wound like this but somewhere between in being a cut from an Angel Blade and using all of his power to retrieve Sam and Dean he just _couldn’t_. This one would have to heal itself naturally for the time being.

“See that wasn’t so bad.” Dean lied, knowing that wasn’t even going to be the worst of it. Castiel just glared at him in reply.

Luckily Dean always kept on him what had causally become known as ‘the sewing kit’. It was a small bag with a needle strong enough to be pushed through skin, thread strong enough not to break and a spare lighter to act as a sterilizer.

“Do you want anything pierced while I’m here?” Dean joked. Again, Castiel glared at him. “Tough crowd. Ok, brace yourself.”

Castiel grabbed hold of the shoulder that wasn’t going to be instrumental in stitching him back up. Dean gave him a look that said _I didn’t mean on me_ but he didn’t tell him to move it.

When the needle entered his skin, Castiel squeezed Dean’s shoulder so tightly that Dean thought he heard the bones grinding against each other. His fingers dug in that little bit more with each tug of the needle and soon curses were falling from his lips like they usually did with Dean. Then what he had to presume were Enochian curse words came and Dean found himself being the one that had to take deep breaths.

Despite his better judgement, Dean pulled the thread a little bit harder, just to see what would come next.

“Oh God.” Castiel damn near growled. Dean bit down on his lip, feigning concentration even though he could stitch anything up in his sleep. He stared at the wound, trying to drown out the persistent ache of his cock pressing against his jeans, begging for attention.

Castiel’s other hand grabbed Dean’s knee, leaning in so close that Dean could barely see the wound anymore without his eyes losing focus. He tied the thread closed, almost lamenting finishing the job. Castiel didn’t let go of him but his grip lessened slightly.

“Did I hurt you?” Castiel asked, now more calm and collected than Dean could hope to be any time soon.

“No, it’s fine.” Dean lied, he was pretty sure he’d have bruises that would see out the week, at the very least.

“You look pained.”

“Well, I wasn’t the one being sewn back together, how are you doing?” Dean asked, sidestepping the question.

“I’m not sure I liked the effect it had on my vessel.”

“That painful, huh?” Dean asked, slightly guilty now.

“It should have been.” Castiel admitted. “But my vessel seemed to enjoy it.”

“You mean all the swearing and the ‘oh God’ that was you...Well, thank fuck for that.”

“I don’t understand.” Castiel said, his head tilting to the side like it always did.

“Doesn’t matter, we can talk about it later. Right now, that wound needs at least one final wash with the good stuff.” Dean held up the bottle of whisky, before taking a gulp of it himself and offering it to Castiel.


End file.
